


The Secret's Out

by GryffindorsCrest



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-09 22:50:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7820302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GryffindorsCrest/pseuds/GryffindorsCrest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being such prominent public figures, a PDA is bound to affect Liam and Niall's relationship somehow...</p><p>(I suck at summaries!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret's Out

The really awful thing about it, Liam always thought, almost the worst thing, was that the picture made it look so _seedy_. The quality of the photograph was terrible - though not terrible enough to make it impossible to tell that it was definitely them, Liam Payne and Niall Horan pressed against each other up against a wall, with Liam's hands shoved up Niall's shirt and Niall's cupping Liam's ass, their mouths pressed blindly together, entirely ignorant of the fan with the camera-phone lurking somewhere close by. Strange, after so many months of secrecy, that one brief goodbye kiss in the shadows of a hotel service entrance in Paris could bring the whole thing to its dramatic climax.

There hadn't been much time that night, considering it was the last night of their European tour, but the next day Niall would fly to Mallorca for a quick vacation, before resuming the tour a month later in Toronto, providing they didn't see each other _romantically_ before then, what with Liam being in a relationship and all. One month had seemed like an achingly long time. So Liam had gone to Niall's room, on the pretext of discussing ideas for a setlist change for the American leg of the tour, and Sophia had smiled and waved him off with an airy, "Tell Niall I hope he has a good holiday!" that made Liam's stomach twist horribly with guilt.

Ironic, given what would come of that encounter, that they hadn't even had sex that night. Niall was tired, sex the last thing on his mind, and Liam's back protested sharply at anything much more adventurous than 'sitting' or 'standing', as he injured it while fooling around at a show a week prior in London. They spent most of the time simply lying on the bed together, enjoying each other's nearness while they could, Liam combing gentle fingers through Niall's hair, sometimes pressing a soft kiss to Niall's temple.

"We are like old men, no?" Niall said, his smile curving against Liam's neck.  
  
"Singing is making us old," Liam agreed.  
  
"We are growing old together, then," Niall said, and there didn't seem to be anything to say to that, so Liam kissed him instead, hoping that it went some way to conveying the strange rush of feeling that the idea stirred in him.  
  
Later, Niall had insisted on walking with Liam down to the service entrance, where Liam would call a car to come pick him up, in spite of his protestations about how Niall really ought to be catching up on his sleep, as he was flying out to Mallorca early next morning to prevent the fans from catching him. Outside, the quiet side-street was deserted. It was late.  
  
Then there was the old familiar problem of saying goodbye. It was impossible to shake hands and bid each other polite farewells like acquaintances - Liam always felt somehow certain that the secret knowledge of their intimate relationship showed through the pretence of simple friendship, even that it highlighted the lie. They hugged instead, tighter this time than usual because of the deserted street, the seeming impossibility of being discovered.  
  
"Liam." Niall's voice was low and rough, his breath hot against Liam's ear. "Liam -"  
  
Liam  turned his head then and caught Niall's mouth with his own, shoving Niall back against the wall, swallowing Niall's cry of surprise and ignoring the sharp protesting twinge in his back. Niall wasn't wearing a jacket, only a thin t-shirt, and Liam slipped his hands up underneath it, suddenly desperate for contact. Niall shuddered against him at the feel of Liam's cool hands, chilled by the early autumnal Paris night, against his hot skin, and slipped his own hands down greedily from where they rested against Liam's back, down lower and lower over the curve of Liam's spine until they cupped his ass possessively. Liam groaned, kissing Niall even more deeply. It was impossible to pull away. He felt drunk with the heat of Niall's body, with the feel of Niall's skin burning under his hands and the wet warmth of Niall's mouth, that tasted indefinably of Niall - a taste like summer, that he would never be able to get enough of. Niall was making soft, ragged noises as they kissed, pressing into Liam's touch as much as he could, and underneath the sharp pangs of lust Liam felt a bright, fierce affection.  
  
The pictures that were everywhere the next morning conveyed nothing of that. The darkness and grainy quality of the pictures gave the whole thing a sick, seedy air that almost seemed to put a retrospective taint on the embrace, so that later Liam could never think of it without an uneasy feeling of guilt and shame. The image became inextricably linked with the fallout - Sophia's expression when she saw the picture for the first time, and the way she looked at him afterwards, as though he was a stranger.  
  
Strictly speaking, the public display of affection that outed them so spectacularly to the world wasn't the first one; it was just the one that changed everything. Before that there were others, just more subtle - little gestures that were both private and thrillingly public. Things like mentioning Niall's name in interviews without being asked - smiling openly at a room full of press and saying, "For me, it's still me and Niall, you know?" and all the time meaning _I'm thinking of you_. And the twist in his stomach later, when he'd check his phone and find a message from Niall, which was sometimes just a smiley face or a row of x's.  
  
The strangest of all were the moments at the net, when sometimes he was so exhausted he could barely think, and then suddenly there was Niall, solid and shockingly vibrant, practically buzzing with energy, and separated from him only by a few steps on a stage and the invisible yet far more impenetrable barrier of secrecy. Still, sometimes Liam hadn't been able to stop himself from pulling Niall's hand close against his chest at the hand clasp, or letting his hand drift just a fraction too low down Niall's back when they hugged. When he saw the pictures later, they would always make his heart speed up a little. How couldn't people see? It seemed impossible that no-one could tell there was more between them than friendship. The bare, open happiness of Niall's smiles in the photographs of them together seemed incredibly telling, and later, people would use the pictures to illustrate articles - hindsight being, at last, 20-20 - but at the time, they didn't seem to have roused even the faintest hint of suspicion in most people.  
  
In a way, it was more difficult after the outing than it had been before, because now people _were_ watching, scrutinising their every move together. The first weeks and months after the initial revelation were the worst. Liam had been used to the paparazzi for a long time, but he'd never experienced anything that even came close to the chaos that surrounded him and Niall as a couple. People kept tossing around the phrase 'media frenzy', but really those were just words: the reality was the throng of photographers camped out outside the hotel, or lining the venues they performed at so thickly that staff members started to complain, and venues toward the end of their North American tour were forced to ban the media from attending. Reality was opening the paper or checking news websites to find nearly every day pictures of himself and Niall, sometimes doing the most ridiculously mundane things - getting into or out of cars, or eating in a restaurant, or even just walking down a street.  
  
And Niall was an incredibly tactile person, easier with physical affection than Liam had ever been. He loved to touch and be touched, arching into the barest pressure of Liam's fingertips tracing his spine when they lay together in bed, always managing to brush his shoulder against Liam's even in the most spacious of hotel rooms. Liam had never been tactile like that, but with Niall he was learning to love the small proofs of love - a warm palm against the small of his back when they walked together, the constant nearness of Niall's body. So it was hard, in public, to draw away from each other - to keep a safe distance between their bodies so that people wouldn't stare, so that the pictures wouldn't turn up in the newspapers the next day. It was a little like constantly being on a date with the world's strictest chaperone, and it made them cautious with each other, tentative.  
  
Besides which, the start of any relationship is hard enough without having the whole world peering over your shoulder. Their relationship had started out strangely lopsided - Liam knew, for instance, where to touch Niall to make him shiver and cry out; he'd mapped the secret sensitive places with fingers and mouth, and knew them intimately. What he didn't know as a boyfriend, compared to just a friend and work colleague, was, did Niall drink coffee or tea? What toothpaste did he use? Did he hog the bedsheets at night? All those little things that make up a life, that they had to discover now under the glaring spotlight of the world's attention. There seemed to be so many things that Liam would have preferred kept between them that they had to share with the world. Such small things, like being in a coffee shop somewhere and Niall wrinkling his nose and ordering some kind of fruit smoothie because it turns out he doesn't drink either tea or coffee, and they leave laughing because Liam's so incredulous that Niall can be twenty-two years old and actually, genuinely drink neither, and there'd be a moment where they'd look at each other and _grin_ , because it was one more thing they knew about each other, one more piece of the puzzle. And then Liam would open the newspaper or go to a news website the next day and there would be that moment - him and Niall, smiling at each other with such bare, unguarded affection - and it would be almost as if it didn't even belong to them any more. The moment belongs to him about as much as it does to the millions of other people who are opening the paper at the same moment, and looking at the picture in fascination or disgust.  
  
After enough time passed, of course, the media storm died down, like it always does; after a year there were hotter properties than Liam and Niall on the market, and the paparazzi attention was more like the level that Liam had got used to over the years of being a member of the world's biggest boyband. Still, habits learned early die hardest, and even when the sense of being constantly watched had died down, it was still difficult sometimes to remember that there was no more need to hide.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"They're taking our picture," Niall said. They were sat in a small cafe in London, taking advantage of the free Sunday they had from the studio to spend a little relaxed time in each other's company.  
  
Liam looked up from his newspaper. "What?"  
  
With a quirk of his head, Niall indicated outside the window. "Across the street. Paparazzi. They are taking our picture."  
  
Liam glanced in the direction of Niall's nod, and of course, sure enough, there they were. Just a couple of men, nondescript in jeans and everyday jackets, indistinguishable from the rest of the London crowds except for the telescopic cameras dangling around their necks, the lenses glinting a little in the clear English sunshine. Somehow, London always seemed worse for that sort of thing.  
  
Liam shrugged. "If people want to buy pictures of us having coffee, let them."  
  
"They don't want pictures of us _drinking coffee_ ," Niall said. "They're never waiting around for that." He swirled the orange dregs of a smoothie around his glass; Liam never had been able to cultivate in him a taste for really good coffee, despite his best efforts. But Niall was right. The photographers would take these pictures, and if it was a slow enough news day tomorrow, perhaps they'd even sell them. But it wasn't cosy domestic pictures like these that they were watching for. They wanted something sensational, for people to gasp or stare at in the papers the next day.  
  
And, well, Liam thought suddenly, why not?  
  
"Think they're waiting for this?" And Liam leaned forward across the little table, getting right in Niall's space, seeing the recognition of what he was about to do in Niall's eyes right before he did it: he kissed Niall, framing Niall's face with his hands to hold him there. A _real_ kiss, lingering and sweet, and Niall didn't pull away. A heady rush of excitement sparked through Liam's body, partly what he usually felt whenever he kissed Niall with intent like this anyway, even after two years together - but partly rebellious thrill, too, because all of a sudden Liam was so sick of having his relationship peered at through telescopic lenses. Sick of pretending that the artificial distance they kept between each other in public was any reflection of their real relationship. If people wanted to see him and Niall, let them see: _this_ was him and Niall, this was their relationship. This was their love. They drank coffee together in coffee shops like normal people, and they kissed like normal people. Niall's smile curved against his mouth, and Liam matched it with his own. He would never, ever get enough of this. When he pulled back at last, Niall's eyes were warm with affection.  
  
"I think now they are happy?" Niall said.  
  
"Well, if they're not, at least I am," said Liam, and Niall laughed, a clear bright sound. Most of the people in the cafe hadn't even looked up from their drinks.  
  
And sure enough, the pictures showed up in the papers the next day. Liam bought a couple of copies, just to make sure.


End file.
